


Whiter Shade of Purple

by Pandora (Heather)



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-07-27
Updated: 2001-07-27
Packaged: 2017-10-08 01:27:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/71287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heather/pseuds/Pandora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Plotless...Angel ruminates on Spike, Darla, Dru and Buffy. Not</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whiter Shade of Purple

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written from Angel's POV before...EVER. Don't make fun if it's off.

_**Untitled**_  
Title: None...I'm accepting suggestions along with feedback.

Rating: R, just 'cause it's dark and angsty.

Summary: Plotless...Angel ruminates on Spike, Darla, Dru and Buffy. Not  
really slashy, but not what you'd call a friendly rememberance piece.

Pairing: I don't think I have one...S/A, B/A, D/A, A/Darla, though, to be honest, there's not much activity. It's all in Angel's head.

Distribution: This is more for beta than archive purposes, but hey, if you want it, be my guest.

Author's notes: I've never written from Angel's POV before...EVER. Don't make fun if it's off.

Special warnings: Some violence, sort of, some preslash, sort of, and shades of Angelus. Not to mention, I think Angel has gone off the deep end if he really thinks the way I'm writing.

+++++

I've seen the devil.

Not in Hell. No, never in Hell. The devil's not there, because if he was  
there, how could he tempt men into doing his bidding?

The devil is blond, but he moonlights as a brunette. He's a woman sometimes,  
too. He has big blue eyes that are free from that tangled, filthy  
spiderwebbing called sanity, a silky voice that says some of the nastiest  
things but always sounds like a perfectly innocent child, a fiesty attitude  
to show off strength his body belies, and he wears a leather duster and  
looks like Billy Idol.

The devil smokes. The devil also detests the smell of cigarettes. Confusing  
guy, actually. Don't recommend meeting him.

I've seen, and I've been tempted. I've taken comfort in the various forms,  
and been tortured by them, too.

He seems to have a thing for running me through with large, shard, metal  
objects, this devil fellow. Swords, hot pokers, iron rods. Hurts like a  
bitch, but what can you do?

Glad you asked. I've tried a thing or two in my time. Calling him  
"rollerboy" and making him feel inferior will sometimes do the trick. So  
will tossing him through sliding glass doors, and telling him he's never  
given you an ounce of happiness. One of my personal favorites is leaving gag  
gifts in his and his friends' bedrooms. Nothing personal; just have to  
protect myself.

I've bled for him, in all his forms. Walked on crosses. Taken severe  
beatings for favoring one of his forms above another. Been posioned with  
another of those sharp objects he's so fond of sticking in me.

You know why God and the devil both like blood so much? Because they don't  
bleed.

But they do. I've tasted it. Hot and pulsing, with the strength of a  
thousand warriors; cool and sweet, infinitely tempting; mismatched and  
eclectic, swirled in intricate patterns of richly delicious flavors; tart  
and burning, like sarcasm, like hot pokers, like manacles.

Real big on blood and pain. Giving, receiving...take your pick. So easy to  
break, to hurt, to destroy. But all the forms bounce right back. The devil  
heals much quicker than men, you see.

But he broke so easily. He had such fine bones, so easy to break. Skin easy  
to bite. Flesh easy to tear.

Like me. Takes a lickin', keeps on tickin'. Who acares about the lost blood,  
the pain, the torn flesh that'll heal so quickly? It all comes back later.  
Heals up. Doesn't even leave a scar.

But it does. You want to see my scars? You want to see his scars?

Lok for the bite on his neck, the next time he takes down one of my  
brethren. I gurantee you, it'll be there.

Look at the pain in his eyes. The loneliness, the need. That's there, too.

While we're looking at his eyes, check out the lack of sanity. I did that,  
you know. Messed him up real nice. Wasn't my fault, was too tempting to  
resist. Devils are like that.

The scar through the eyebrow. Pretty, huh? Did that one to himself. But I  
remember the way the blood ran down, and I remember how hungry it made me,  
and fuck, if that's not the scariest feeling in the world.

What's scarier is just how understanding the devil is. One mistake, one  
drink too many, a few plans to steal your father's silver, a few promises  
from that tempting childlike voice, and God doesn't want you any more. The  
devil, on the other hand, will give his life to save yours, will hug you in  
a hallway, will come to you in dreams, to comfort, to soothe.

God asks too much. *Yeah, boy. Kill her again. 'Cause, hey, it wasn't hard  
enough the first time.* *Give her up. You may need her like she needs breath  
to live, but it's better this way.* *Turn her to dust. She's only helpless  
and crazy 'cause you made her that way. What are you afraid of?* *Spin him  
around, remind him he's not good enough, take away his treasure and then  
kill him, too.*

The devil, on the other hand? *All you have to do is let me give you one  
little moment of happiness.* *Poor Angel. We'll find you a nice toddler.*  
*Oh, who cares? What matters is now he's back!* *When I look into my future,  
all I see is you. All I want is you.*

And people wonder why being evil is so much easier than being good.

Yeah, I've seen the devil. One scary character. He wears kimonos, and  
doesn't like being lied to. He names stars and punishes china dolls. He  
doesn't think twice about giving me his blood to save my life. He smokes  
GPCs and drives a DeSoto.

And just between us?

Evil never looked so good.

~the end, thank God!~


End file.
